Last Words
by outofivanhoe
Summary: In the aftermath of the final battle, Neville pours his heart out to Ginny. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: **The characters are JK Rowling's. The situation and emotions are mine. And no, obviously I'm not making any money out of it.

**A/N: **The sequel to this is called "Too Late", and is now up. My thanks to everyone who's supported me in my writing, most especially Juli and Tammy, who have been reading my stuff for a while now. You guys rock! Constructive criticism more than welcome.

**Last Words**

The Death Eaters had dispersed after the destruction of their Master. No doubt they would be picked up by Aurors over the following days, just as they had been all those years before, after his original destruction. Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone to get help, although I doubted they would find it quickly. It seemed as if the whole country was in a state of turmoil. I, not having passed my Apparition test like the others, was left here in the forest clearing, with Neville lying dying a few yards away.

There was nothing I could do. Nothing anyone could do. Even if my brother returned this second with a full team of trained Medi-wizards, there would be nothing they could do. I might not know much about Medi-magic, but I knew that much. Neville would not survive the injuries he had sustained today, not with everything that had happened.

I edged closer, not knowing what to say. I knelt down beside him and clasped his hand between both of mine, trying not to gasp as I felt how cold it was.

"It's over, Neville," I told him needlessly. "You did it. You destroyed him."

"Weird, isn't it, that in the end it was me, not Harry, who did it?" Neville remarked, his voice little more than a whisper, his tone flat and matter-of-fact, as if he was commenting on the weather. His face was without expression, and his eyes stared past me to the black, endless night sky. It was, of course, a mark of some of the tortures and curses inflicted upon him that they could let his body deteriorate while leaving his mind clear and lucid. The better to experience the pain.

"I don't think anyone was expecting that. You-Know-Who certainly wasn't. I suppose I can call him Voldemort now. Strange how it doesn't matter any more." Neville paused, his breathing slow and difficult. "I was always a little jealous of Harry, you know. Of all of them. What I wouldn't have given to be able to play Quidditch like Harry did, or get good grades like Hermione, or make people laugh like Ron. Or even just have basic hand-eye co-ordination." Another pause. "Sorry to be pouring my heart out to you like this. It's just I feel I need to tell someone. I can't die without anyone knowing. It'd be too… lonely."

"You're not going to die, Neville," I said, pulling myself together, deciding I should be trying to comfort him. "Harry and the others have gone to get help. Everything's going to be okay." Neville ignored the comment. Later, I wondered if he had even heard it.

"My parents would be proud of me. My grandmother says they always said that to stop great evil was worth any sacrifice. I wonder what she'll say I always said? I'm not sure how she'll handle this, you know. First Mum and Dad… now her grandson. You'll make sure she's okay, won't you, Ginny?" Another pause, another heavy intake of breath. Words had left me by now. I could only stare at his face, at his lips, barely moving as he talked. I don't think it mattered that I couldn't reply. He didn't seem to need an answer. "She probably wouldn't be satisfied with me, even now. She'd probably say I went about it all wrong. I always rationalised, told myself that that was just how she expressed herself, but… all she ever told me was how I wasn't good enough, how useless I was. After a while I started to believe it. Believed it when idiots like Malfoy told me I wasn't good enough to be at Hogwarts, wasn't good enough for anything.

"You know, I never thought I was good enough for you, Ginny. I waited for so long, but never dared tell you how I felt. You were always surrounded by friends, so beautiful, so intelligent. And yet you always had the time to talk to me. To everyone else I was just useless Neville Longbottom, practically a Squib. Even to Harry and the others I was a bit of a joke. But you… you saw things other people didn't. You were friends with Luna, even though everyone else just thought she was crazy. Maybe it's having so many brothers with loud personalities. When you're surrounded by noise, by people who stand out… you tend to step back and start to notice things.

"So I cherished the hope that maybe… maybe you'd like me for me, not just pity me like the others. I would have asked you to the Yule Ball first, but… I suppose deep down I was scared of what might happen if you turned me down. I reasoned that it made sense for me and Hermione to go together. It'd be silly, if the two remaining, dateless fourth year Gryffindors went on their own, wouldn't it? But then it turned out that Hermione already had a date. I decided maybe it was a sign. I plucked up the courage to ask you, dreading that all my hopes might be destroyed if you said no. But you didn't, and I think that was the closest I ever came to telling you how I felt. Pouring everything out.

"But then came the doubts. What if you were only going with me to the ball because you wouldn't be able to otherwise? So many what ifs, all standing in my way… So I never told you. Never told you how I really felt, how I had for so long. I watched you dating other guys, through fifth and sixth and seventh years. Other guys who always seemed as if they deserved you so much more than me. I always felt I wasn't good enough for you, never dared to speak up. Funny how your reply isn't what's important now, how just getting the words out seems to be all that matters. I love you, Ginny Weasley. But I suppose it's too late now, isn't it?"


End file.
